Jain Day 1

Blog

Friday October 30^th Mexico Cruise

 

We’re off again… yes, another vacation, another trip. This time we’re heading back to the future on a short cruise to Cozumel, Roatán, and Costa Maya, Mexico. Sure, we’ve been there, done that — but have we really?

 

After visiting 130 countries, we love to brag that we’ve “seen it all,” but the truth is… not quite. The more we travel, the more we realize it’s never just about the destination. It’s about the “going”. It’s breaking out of routine. It’s good for us and there is always something new to see, even if you have been there before. Whether it’s just having a simple cup of coffee or a glass of wine in a different place, it somehow feels a little more exciting, a little more enticing, different from your comfortable everyday surroundings at home.

 

We picked this trip for one very honest reason: we had a $1,200 Norwegian Cruise Line credit burning a hole in our pocket. It was one of those “use it or lose it” situations, so of course we used it. The credit came from an earlier sailing where fares suddenly dropped because a handful of cabins didn’t sell — mostly thanks to a streak of dramatic cruise headlines that made nervous travelers skittish. You know the type: rare events turned into viral panic posts.

• Overboard stories — heavily shared, scary-sounding, statistically uncommon.
• Whale strike — tragic for the whale, yes, but the ship didn’t sink.
• Hurricane reroutes — cancellations, detours, and cranky Facebook groups.
• Red Sea piracy detours — no pirates, just precautions and dramatic commentary.
• GI outbreaks and the new, very rare hantavirus cluster — serious but extremely contained, despite headlines making it sound like a movie plot about rodent‑borne doom.

All of it is tailor‑made for sensational coverage. None of it made cruising dangerous — it just made cruising sound dangerous, maybe to some people. But for us? Well, our philosophy most of the time is you can stay home and maybe get sick or die, or you can venture out and maybe get sick or die. At least on a cruise, you get a balcony and a buffet.

 

We’re off again — flying from Reno to Houston and then making our way down to Galveston, Texas. “Galveston, Oh Galveston, I still hear your sea winds blowing” …” it’s our big chance find out why Glen Campbell was singing about. At least we’re in first class, which makes the whole thing feel slightly less like a punishment. Bigger seats, a little more legroom, and maybe even a chance at some shuteye. Plus, a flight attendant who actually has time to check on us instead of sprinting past like they’re in a marathon.

 

Jay will be sitting close enough to the cockpit to pretend he’s “on standby,” just in case the pilots suddenly need help. Back in the 1970s, when he applied to be a Western Airlines pilot, he actually got real 737 training — learning the controls, practicing takeoffs and landings, the whole behind‑the‑scenes pilot routine. Of course, today’s planes are basically spaceships compared to what he trained on… but don’t worry. Jay is fully prepared to save the day with his vintage skills.

 

So, I’ll end this story not by telling you what we did today or what we ate, but how we’re feeling — in a nutshell, it’s nice to go, because we know when we get home it’ll be nice to return. That’s the rhythm of travel: a little chaos, a little comfort, and the reminder that both leaving and coming back have their own kind of magic.

 

ain Day 1

Blog

Friday October 30^th Mexico Cruise

 

We’re off again… yes, another vacation, another trip. This time we’re heading back to the future on a short cruise to Cozumel, Roatán, and Costa Maya, Mexico. Sure, we’ve been there, done that — but have we really?

 

After visiting 130 countries, we love to brag that we’ve “seen it all,” but the truth is… not quite. The more we travel, the more we realize it’s never just about the destination. It’s about the “going”. It’s breaking out of routine. It’s good for us and there is always something new to see, even if you have been there before. Whether it’s just having a simple cup of coffee or a glass of wine in a different place, it somehow feels a little more exciting, a little more enticing, different from your comfortable everyday surroundings at home.

 

We picked this trip for one very honest reason: we had a $1,200 Norwegian Cruise Line credit burning a hole in our pocket. It was one of those “use it or lose it” situations, so of course we used it. The credit came from an earlier sailing where fares suddenly dropped because a handful of cabins didn’t sell — mostly thanks to a streak of dramatic cruise headlines that made nervous travelers skittish. You know the type: rare events turned into viral panic posts.

• Overboard stories — heavily shared, scary-sounding, statistically uncommon.
• Whale strike — tragic for the whale, yes, but the ship didn’t sink.
• Hurricane reroutes — cancellations, detours, and cranky Facebook groups.
• Red Sea piracy detours — no pirates, just precautions and dramatic commentary.
• GI outbreaks and the new, very rare hantavirus cluster — serious but extremely contained, despite headlines making it sound like a movie plot about rodent‑borne doom.

All of it is tailor‑made for sensational coverage. None of it made cruising dangerous — it just made cruising sound dangerous, maybe to some people. But for us? Well, our philosophy most of the time is you can stay home and maybe get sick or die, or you can venture out and maybe get sick or die. At least on a cruise, you get a balcony and a buffet.

 

We’re off again — flying from Reno to Houston and then making our way down to Galveston, Texas. “Galveston, Oh Galveston, I still hear your sea winds blowing” …” it’s our big chance find out why Glen Campbell was singing about. At least we’re in first class, which makes the whole thing feel slightly less like a punishment. Bigger seats, a little more legroom, and maybe even a chance at some shuteye. Plus, a flight attendant who actually has time to check on us instead of sprinting past like they’re in a marathon.

 

Jay will be sitting close enough to the cockpit to pretend he’s “on standby,” just in case the pilots suddenly need help. Back in the 1970s, when he applied to be a Western Airlines pilot, he actually got real 737 training — learning the controls, practicing takeoffs and landings, the whole behind‑the‑scenes pilot routine. Of course, today’s planes are basically spaceships compared to what he trained on… but don’t worry. Jay is fully prepared to save the day with his vintage skills.

 

So, I’ll end this story not by telling you what we did today or what we ate, but how we’re feeling — in a nutshell, it’s nice to go, because we know when we get home it’ll be nice to return. That’s the rhythm of travel: a little chaos, a little comfort, and the reminder that both leaving and coming back have their own kind of magic.

 

Bermuda Stories

Dear Blog

By popular demand, we have figured out a way to include photos in our travel stories. The link here displays the compiled version of our stories sent from Bermuda with the addition of photos.

 

BermudaBooklet

 

 

Bermuda Final

Dear Blog

Sept. 1^st Tuesday Day 8 Bermuda

 

Today is our last full day in Bermuda before we take the ugh plane ride home — though at least the connection going back is better than the one that brought us here. Small victories.

We decided to spend the day with a day pass at the Newstead Belmont Hills Golf & Spa Resort, one of the easiest ways to enjoy amenities you can’t always access on your own. Yes, Bermuda has plenty of public beaches, but once you get there you still end up paying for umbrellas, loungers, and everything else. With a day pass, all of that is taken care of.

What makes Newstead especially nice is how effortless everything feels. Lunch is right on-site — no wandering around looking for food.

It’s steps from the pool, so you can drift over for a leisurely meal and then slide right back into your lounger. The views are gorgeous, giving you a mini escape inside your escape.

We weren’t looking for just another pool — our hotel already has one. We wanted a quiet harborside retreat with peace, views, and that slow, relaxing pool‑day rhythm. For that, the Newstead day pass is absolutely perfect.

One of the best perks is the private ferry shuttle, an easy eight‑minute ride across the harbor. Newstead sits directly opposite Hamilton, close enough to see the skyline but far enough to feel tucked away. The shuttle drops you right at the Hamilton ferry terminal, giving you all the convenience of the city without any of the noise or crowds. And the weather? Bright, sunny, warm — 82 degrees. Truly the perfect temperature for a final Bermuda day.

One of the real joys of travel is meeting new people and having those easy little chit‑chats. It just works—you're on vacation, they're on vacation, and everyone’s in the mood for a good time. Those quick conversations add a little spark to the day.

Being with your spouse around the clock is great, but it doesn’t mean every moment will be filled with profound conversation. Meeting others along the way brings a refreshing balance.

On our first trip to Bermuda, we hit it off with a couple staying at our hotel. She was easy to talk to, and her man friend was nice, reserved, but genuinely interesting. We ended up going on a sunset cruise together and had a great time. He had that dead‑pan warmth—calm, flexible, and not afraid to give an accurate assessment, which made him pretty funny without even trying. At one point he asked, “You’re not one of those couples we get to know and like, and then never hear from again, right?” We laughed and said, “Probably.”

The funny part was that he looked exactly like the Lieutenant Bogomilt who starred with Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop.  Who displayed the same type of character, authoritative without being authoritarian, disciplined without being cold,

principled without being rigid, and honest without being harsh.

We asked him outright if he’d played that lieutenant in the Eddie Murphy movie, and he said, “Nah,” but there was a twinkle in his eye that Jay immediately read as a quiet yes. I took it to mean he’s definitely been asked before. And who knows—like he said, we will never know, because we never saw him again.

We chatted with a few people on this trip without ever learning their names—a couple from Alberta, a couple from Indiana, and a British girl who is one of the rare humans who can actually pull off wearing  a thong bathing suit. I spent way too much time misidentifying everyone around her. I confidently decided her brother was her boyfriend, and the older man sitting next to her was her father. Wrong on both counts. But that’s what we do when we don’t know the story—we just make stuff up.

Travel changes the way you see the world, and even more, the way you see people. The older I get, the more I realize that paradise isn’t usually a just a place—it’s a feeling of connection. And the people you meet along the way have everything to do with that feeling. It reminds me of that guy years ago who asked, “Are you one of those couples we’ll never see or talk to again?” The honest answer was yes. But we’ve never forgotten him.

 

Bermuda Day 7

Dear Blog

 

August 31^st Monday Day 7 Bermuda

 

Yesterday we went to St. George, a small, very old town in Bermuda. Many of the buildings have been here for hundreds of years, and you can easily see the island’s early history just by walking around. It’s the oldest English town in the Americas that people still live in. The town has colorful houses, tiny cobblestone streets, and pretty ocean views.

 

There are two ways to get there from Hamilton: by ferry or by bus. We took the ferry over because it’s the more scenic route, even though it takes a bit longer, and took the bus back since there are more return times than the ferry.

 

We actually had to look up how to ride a bus in Bermuda. We’ve been to 125 countries, navigated ferries, tuk‑tuks, bullet trains, and one questionable camel… yet somehow, we still had to Google how to ride a bus in Bermuda. “Uhm… so do we just… get on … how does this work?  We found out the good news: buses and ferries are $5 for adults, and the U.S. dollar equals the Bermudian dollar. Yes, there are cheaper fares and multi‑day passes, but if you’re going anywhere tourists actually go, it’s usually five bucks. So, we just packed some $5 bills.

 

The rules are simple. Stand by the pink pole the bus goes toward Hamilton, stand by the blue pole the bus goes away from Hamilton. Once by the pole, give the driver a little wave and he will pull over, get in and hand over your $5. And don’t forget to say hello to the driver, the internet insists on this.  Then find a seat and sit your butt down with only what fits on your lap — anything bigger and it’s basically “no bus for you”. When you want off, push the “STOP” button, pretend you’ve known how to do this your whole life and don’t forget to thank the driver as you leave.

 

We spent the whole morning wandering around St. George, weaving through cobblestone lanes, tiny alleyways, old churches, and the quiet forts. It really does feel like you’ve stepped back in time. Jay had printed out a little walkabout guide with all the must‑see spots, which kept us moving — at least until we got thirsty.

We wandered into Wahoo Bistro – the perfect spot to grab a cold beer on the deck overlooking the water. We politely skipped their swordfish bites and famous octopus stew and stuck with a frosty Amstel Light.

Then we found a  pink pole and caught the bus to Crystal Caverns. The caves bus stop was where a crowd of people were waiting to catch the bus back to Hamilton so we knew this must be the way to the place. Besides there was a big sign that says, “Crystal & Fantasy Caves – A Bermuda Landmark” and a tall overhead sign reading “Pedestrian Footpath to the Crystal Caves of Bermuda.”  

 

The caves were discovered in 1907 by two teenage boys chasing a lost cricket ball. When you’re inside, you can imagine how shocking it must have been to stumble into something so vast and untouched. The caves are enormous chambers filled with thousands of slender white stalactites, hanging like chandeliers from the ceiling and stalagmites rising from the shore of a crystal clear lake. They look delicate, almost like frozen icicles, but they’ve been forming for millions of years. The caves have soft blue lights that shine on the rock walls. The blue light makes the hanging rock formations look icy, almost like glass. The rocks themselves are white and light gray, so the blue lighting gives the whole cave a gentle, underwater glow.

 

After our tour of the caves we stood by the pink pole once again and took the bus back to Hamiliton where it was officially wine time and we stopped for a bite to eat on our way to bed.

 

It was a good day.

 

 

 

Bermuda Day 6

Dear Blog

August 30^th Sunday Day 6 Bermuda

 

Today we took another early walk around Hamilton before the cruise crowds rolled in. Bermuda is a favorite stop for several cruise lines—especially Norwegian—and every ship docks out at the Royal Naval Dockyard, about seven miles from Hamilton. By taxi or bus, it’s a 45‑minute ride, but as we’ve learned, the ferry makes a quick and beautiful 20‑minute trip across the sound.

 

Most cruises stick around for a couple of days because Bermuda is basically everyone’s dream vacation. So, this morning—before the heat kicked in and the Fanny Pack Brigade marched ashore—we set out to explore Hamilton’s quieter corners. We wandered into hidden alleys, secret nooks, and all the little details that make the city feel like Bermuda’s best‑kept secret.

 

When you wander through Bermuda, the first thing your eyes keep drifting towards are the white roofs. There is a reason for that. The islands do not have any rivers, lakes or other sources of natural fresh water, so every building is designed to catch rainwater. They all look like wedding cakes and homes are painted soft pastel colors, not just for the charm but to reflect sun, keeping interiors cool.

 

“Hidden Hamilton” sits just behind Front Street, easy to miss because most visitors stay on the main drag of shops, bars, and water views. The real charm lies in the unmarked alleys—quirky, art‑splashed passages that reward anyone willing to slip between two buildings and wander. We found unexpected murals, you’d swear no one would bother painting, quiet little pocket of everyday Bermudian life— You’ll see Bermudians chatting, deliveries happening and historic coral‑stone walls, pastel paint peeling just enough to be charming, and stairways that look like they’ve been climbed for a century.  In a word… interesting.

 

August is a great month to visit here. We’ve had classic Bermuda summer days: highs in the 80s, lows around 78°F, and sea temps are at their warmest — about 82°F.  Most visitors don’t realize Bermuda’s ocean is too cold for comfortable swimming for about four months (Dec–Mar), when water temps drop to 63–68°F.

 

A friend asked us, “Aren’t you going during hurricane season?” Technically, we are here during peak Atlantic hurricane season. But direct hits on Bermuda are rare. The island is only 21 square miles, a tiny target in a huge ocean, and most storms curve north before they ever reach it. A direct hit happens roughly every 10–15 years — the last was Hurricane Ernesto in August 2024, so… are we safe? LOL, hopefully.

For travelers like us, the biggest issue isn’t island damage — it’s flight disruption. Even offshore storms can delay or cancel flights thanks to strong winds, turbulence, or unsafe landing conditions. Bermuda’s airport usually closes for hurricanes once every 1–3 years. And honestly, compared to today’s general air‑travel chaos, delays can happen anywhere, anytime… so our thinking is similar to what Alfred E. Neuman might say, “What Me worry?”

 

In the afternoon we wandered down to the pool, watching the usual parade of newcomers drifting in and out. This hotel, like all other hotels is a revolving door of personalities. And while I’m grateful it’s “adults only,” you could definitely argue that a few of these folks are stretching the definition. We skipped the Saturday night pool party. The music was too loud and the ‘adults’ a bit too much.

 

Tomorrow is a big one.  St. George awaits, and we will need all the energy we can get.

 

P.S. A friend wrote me a response to yesterday’s story, “So buy a cute villa on the beach and I’ll be sure to visit. Happy sipping… On your way home I can get you booked in my yearly room at the Betty Ford clinic.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bermuda Day 5

Dear Blog

 

August 28^th Saturday Day 5 Bermuda

This morning we went to breakfast at Huckelberry’s, set right on the front porch of our colonial manor hotel, circa 1906. It is a lovely spot. I ordered a croissant, and the waiter mentioned they’re known for having the best in town—the chef comes in at 5 a.m. to bake them fresh. It was good, similar to the pizza we had the night before: maybe the humidity made it a bit more pillowy and slightly sweeter. Still really good… but at the end of the day, it was just a croissant.

After breakfast we headed for the pool and suddenly caught myself wondering why I’m writing about croissants. Then it hit me; people like us go on vacation for simple reasons, relaxation, experiences and food.

The other day while relaxing by the pool we started chatting with a couple. The husband asked, “Are you guys going to “Intrepid?” And added, “I hear it is fine dining at its best.”  I honestly didn’t know how to respond. Fine dining…Me?

To me, fine dining means upscale luxury and chef driven menus. That’s not really us. And we don’t think of ourselves as ‘Foodies’ either.  Foodies seem to chase quality and curiosity. Jay and I are casual diners, we like familiar dishes, but we want them served in a place with a ‘vibe’, a view, a setting that feels good.

Last night we opted for La Trattoria. Yes, Italian. We’d eaten there three years ago and remembered how good the pasta was. This time it was just okay—restaurants change, but it didn’t quite feel worth the price we paid. And the vibe was different too. When we first sat down, it felt like a nice, quiet spot… then more and more families came in with kids. It’s definitely had become a full‑on family restaurant.

Before our Italian night on the town, we stopped in for a little rum tasting at Gosling Brothers shop. Jay liked the “Family Reserved, Old Rum” and learned how to order it online. I was surprised that I liked it too, and I never drink rum. Gosling Brothers say, “Try it and you might buy it.” My philosophy is, “I’ll try it but @ $75 a bottle, I’ll probably pass and keep drinking wine.

Since our last trip, the town has understandably grown. There are more luxury high‑rises, new office buildings, and a noticeable number of upscale boutique shops. Near our hotel sits a fairly large market called Miles—a specialty grocery store that honestly takes your breath away. The care they put into displaying their unique foods is incredible. You walk in and immediately reach for your camera. The fruit is arranged beautifully, and every section in the store (that is—about the size of a Trader Joe’s)—is thoughtfully curated with unusual items, from crackers to deli goods and everything in between.  There’s definitely a market here for these kinds of specialty goods—and yes, they’re expensive. Jay pointed out that the two steaks were priced at $60, but given their size and quality, you couldn’t find anything comparable at home. It makes you wonder who can actually afford all this.

 Sure, there are plenty of well‑off people—businessmen in their Bermuda shorts and socks heading to work, living in beautiful condos overlooking the bay. But when you’re out walking, you also see regular working‑class folks, and even some people who don’t seem to be working at all. It’s hard to imagine how everyone manages to live here even though the normal person doesn’t shop at Miles, they shop their local market that on Monday and Tuesdays we hear they are given a 20% discount. The guys at the rum‑tasting shop mentioned that when they go on vacation—like to Florida—their money goes much further, and they really splurge.

As the day wound down, I found myself thinking about our rum tasting, our pricey Italian dinner and all the things you splurge on when you’re off away. It struck me when you are traveling you are caught up in the fun, the flavors, the scenery while locals are probably dealing with real world concerns. It is reminder that no matter how attractive a place is for tourists; life keeps happening underneath the postcard.

 Like Scarlett said, “I can’t think about that right now. I’ll think about it tomorrow.” After all I am on vacation.